Harmony
by A Pleasant Reader
Summary: KOTOR2 Post-game. The Exile left known space without saying a word to her pilot. She came back expecting to resolve the feelings that had not gone away, but he wasn't there. At least, not yet...  LSF Exile x Atton
1. Prologue

_General Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, KotOR, or anything else of value. Nor will do I claim ownership of anything that may appear in later chapters._

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Alora Star was slumped on her desk, datapad in hand, head down, and obviously asleep. It wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence these days—back from a year in the Unknown Regions and working her ass off just to stop thinking about…nevermind. She'd graciously offered to handle the good Admiral's paperwork while he and Chala spent their honeymoon planet-side; in their eyes, she was doing them a gigantic favor, in hers though…it had been a rather selfish offer.

Mira and Bao-Dur had been on Citadel Station to greet Alora when she and Chala, formerly known as Reven, returned, and Mandalore had mysteriously showed up not long after, though she suspected he was there to see Chala more than her. Most of Chala's friends were also there, and if they weren't, it didn't take them long to get there. As soon as they heard the news, Visas and Mical had flown in from Dantooine where they were setting up a new Jedi enclave. "Atton?" they had said when she asked. He helped with the rebuilding, showing up with lost holocrons, flawless crystals for lightsabers, and plenty of force sensitive recruits, but…they never knew when, and they never knew where he was going to or coming from.

Alora told herself that she shouldn't have expected him to be there, waiting; it wasn't his nature and she left him to wait first, or not to wait, she supposed. They weren't even a couple, like Chala and Carth; she was being unreasonable, but those words were much easier to say than believe, especially four months later. So she threw herself into work for others' benefit, even to the point of falling asleep at her desk.

~*v*~

At that very moment, a nondescript ship was waiting to dock at Citadel Station. All the visas and registrations had checked out, and there was a single life-sign onboard—a very nervous life-sign, although no computer could pick that up.

Atton Rand was shuffling his pazaak deck aimlessly in the cockpit of that ship. There was a crate of Jedi texts in the cargo hold that some greedy pirate had planned to sell back to their rightful owners for a fortune in credits. Atton had been quite proud of the heist, but the texts were worthless in comparison to the news he'd heard as returned from the idiot's private moon on the very outer edge of the Outer Rim. _Alora is back_. What did a bunch of musty old datapads matter?

He had immediately set course for Telos and Citadel Station, and it was a wonder that the small ship wasn't pulled apart by the speeds he pushed it to in his impatience. He wished now, though, that he had taken a little more time. After all, what claim did he, the fool, have to Alora Star? Sure, he'd done his share of…admiring, and she'd done her share of calling him out on it. He'd flirted, and she sometimes flirted back. He'd never said anything about how he actually felt though, much less found out if his feelings were reciprocated. In fact, she probably _didn't_ feel anything for him and he had rushed to Telos for no reason at all, he mused, all the while shuffling his cards.

Before he had a chance to turn around and hightail it to Nar Shaddaa, the comm announced that the ship was cleared to dock and Atton steered her into the indicated bay. He supposed he needed fuel anyway. There was the slight jolt of the ship's landing gear meeting the deckplates, and he stood up with a sigh from the pilot's chair, stuffing his cards into a pocket.

~*v*~

Alora's eyes began to flutter open as something roused her from her sleep, then she jolted upright as she realized what that something was. She quickly squashed the hope that flared, reminding herself that she had dreamt his presence into being several times before, only to be crushed when she saw the empty hallway. A deep breath in and a slow breath out, she pushed back from the desk and padded softly to the door. A pained expression briefly flashed across her face as she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door control. Was it real this time? She could feel him outside the door—the emotional cloud he hid himself in: fear, lust, anxiety. No anger, though…he always used to have anger in that cloud. Brushing past the shield to the surface thoughts, she could hear him playing pazaak in his head_…+3 brings the total to 19_…

No. It was like this last time, too. And the time before that. And the first time her imagination and wishful thinking got the better of her. She stared at her hand, paused in mid-reach.

~*v*~

Atton paced in the hallway outside the Admiral's Suite, which he was told was the current residence of Alora Star, administrative assistant. Grapevine had already told him that she was effectively the Admiral while the real Admiral was on leave after his wedding and that she'd been loaned his luxury quarters as thanks. Although, it was the middle of the night for the residents of Citadel Station, 0230 to be exact, and the grapevine currently consisted of a few night shift paper-pushers. He might've gotten more from a stop in the Entertainment Module, but, instead, he was here. She was probably sleeping. Any sane person would be. The only reason she would not be asleep right now…What if she was… It would only take a quick sweep with his Force senses to determine how many presences were behind that door and their emotional state. Yet, he didn't reach out—because she was sleeping. He could lie to himself if wanted to, damnit! But it wasn't lying because...oh…he just didn't know.

He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed in frustration. Why was he here, anyway? The intelligent, and polite, thing to do would have been to wait on the ship until morning. But he _was_ here in front of her door and…when had he reached out toward the buzzer? He stared at his hand.

~*v*~

He felt so _real_. She had to know, for sure. Alora took a deep breath in and opened the door, just as a chime sounded.

~*v*~

_Alora_ was inside that room. Knowing that, Atton couldn't walk away. He pressed the buzzer, just as the door whooshed open.

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_A/N: So begins Harmony... I'm in the process of writing Chapter 3, and then I'll post the Chapter 2 and 3 together. Unfortunately, I'm also working on another story, so I don't know how long it will take. But I will NOT abandon this._

_A/N 2: And a post post-script-How fast I finish chapter 3 depends on which universe I'm most into. Reviews would probably get me into a KOTOR mood...hint-hint..._


	2. Staccato: Winds

_A/N: You can all thank my roommate for giving the kick in the butt I needed to get these two chapters finished. Now, without further ado..._

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As the door opened, Atton caught a glimpse of a familiar, beautiful, golden-skinned woman in a simple white dress before she threw herself at him. He caught her up his arms and returned the embrace despite having to stumble back a couple steps from the force of it.

"Atton," she sighed into his chest. There was a strong emotion in her words, but he couldn't put a finger on it. "It's really you. You came back," she murmured almost too low to hear. Was she…relieved?

"Hey there," he grinned as she stepped back to look up at him. Her hair was much longer, or perhaps he had just never seen it truly let down, and…it was flat on the right side. He figured she had been sleeping at a desk, and he had woken her up. Guilt sparked in him—he should have waited until morning. He noticed dark circles under her eyes—she hadn't been sleeping much at all, even at a desk—and a new scar, as he glanced her face. In the instant that his inspection took, he flashed her a smirk and asked, "Miss me?"

She laughed—oh, how he had missed that—and her eyes sparkled. "No, not at all, I always answer my door like this." As they stood there and stared at each other, her smile began to relax into a different, softer, more vulnerable expression…and then came back as she blinked and broke the spell. Abruptly, she leaned into another quick hug and gave a funny-sounding—but _adorable_—little squeak of excitement before grabbing his hands and pulling him inside. "Come in! Come in!"

He followed her into the main room of the apartment, which was a little more modest than the name had led him to believe, and watched as she spun around slowly, apparently looking for something. He frowned slightly, "Alora…you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking I needed a cup of caffa. You want something?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on if you're offering me a _drink_ or something to drink?" He was mostly joking, although, alcohol might not be a bad idea; it would calm his nerves, especially now that he was worrying why Alora didn't answer a question. However, his joking was rewarded with a chuckle, and the lost look disappeared from her face.

"A Juma Juice it is." Atton's eyebrows rose slightly—she had remembered his favorite drink and happened to have it on hand. She turned to go to the kitchen presumably, and he started to follow but stopped as she whirled around. "Nuh uh. I'm the hostess here. You sit," she ordered pointing the couch. Slightly surprised and definitely amused, he held his hands up in surrender, backed up to the indicated seat, and sat.

There weren't much in the way of personal effects in the apartment—no plants, pictures, or art. The couch that he was presently seated on, an armchair, and a low table appeared to make up the "living area" part of the main room. Atton leaned to his right, as far as he could without getting up, and peered through the open door into the bedroom. He could see a huge bed with a deep red cover; it was perfectly made. She definitely hadn't been sleeping in it. On the other hand, the desk at the back of the room he was in was cluttered with datapads and the chair was still pushed out. Yep—she had been sleeping on the desk when he got here. To the left of the desk, her comm unit was flashing some kind of message. He squinted to try to make out what it said—

"Curiosity killed the tach, you know." Oops, Alora was back and mock glaring at him. At least, he hoped it was mocking.

"Ah, nice place?" Atton tried to brush it off. He felt like a schoolboy caught cheating, which was absolutely absurd because he had done far worse in his life than be nosey. Did she even realize the power she held over him? Atton doubted it, which should have been a good thing; everyone knew that Atton Rand made sure that he had the advantage, the edge, the upper hand, in every situation, always—which is why it was so ironic that he did actually wish she knew what she could do to him. After all, that was the reason he had come, right?

"Thanks," Alora smiled wryly as she handed him his drink. She paused very briefly before she took a seat in the armchair, but Atton noticed the way her eyes had flicked to the space next to him. Before Peragus, if he had seen an attractive woman do that, he would have pulled her down into his lap and proceeded to—but this wasn't just some woman. This was Alora Star. He always felt like he had to walk on eggshells around her, not because she fragile in any way whatsoever, but because he couldn't live with himself if he scared her off. He sighed; he could be patient.

They sat there with their drinks, and silence fell. It wasn't really awkward or uncomfortable; it rather reminded Atton of the times they sat together in the cockpit watching the hyperspace lights through the window. However, it wasn't very satisfying. They hadn't spoken in more than a year, and he had a million things that he'd been wanting to tell her. So why couldn't he think of anything to say? And why wasn't she saying anything? Well, he hadn't yet apologized for leaving her waiting here so long, that is, if she was waiting for him, which he shouldn't assume that she was…hmm. Anyway, that apology…

"Look, I'm sorry—" he started, but stopped when he realized that she had just said the same thing along with him.

"What for?" Again, they spoke in unison. Frustrated, Atton decided to shut up.

"Let me go first," Alora said after a pause. She set her cup on the table and moved to sit next to him. "I…," she trailed off and looked at the wall. After a moment, she locked eyes with him and continued, "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way I left and for not taking you—er, any of you—with me. I missed you desperately." Atton started to notice a slight tremble in her voice. "I still think that it was the right decision to go alone, especially now that I know what was out there, but you deserved more than me sneaking off without saying goodbye. I figured that you would be pretty upset with me. I was actually starting to think that I had ruined our…friendship, because...well, you hadn't…nevermind."

Atton knew that Alora was more upset than she looked. She wasn't crying, in fact, she looked very calm and serious, but she never would have let her voice give her emotions away unless those emotions were completely overwhelming. He reached for her. "Come here." Atton was surprised that she didn't resist the offer of comfort. Instead of insisting that she was fine like he had expected, she scooted over into his lap, and leaned against his chest. Unfortunately, because of her closeness and the sudden wave of that elusive scent that he had being missing, it took him a bit to remember what he was going to say.

"I was upset for a few days after you left, but then Mira found me and made me 'quit sulking,' apparently on your orders." He nudged her, trying to lighten the conversation. "Thanks for setting the kath hound on me, by the way." With an appraising glance at her watery smile, he continued carefully, "I had always understood your reasoning, even though I didn't like it, and it didn't take me very long to forgive you for it. You have nothing to be sorry for. You understand?" Atton felt like shaking her to _make_ her understand—it was killing him to see her like this—but she was looking at the floor. He waited, frowning a bit, for her to look up, but she refused to meet his eyes. He gave a mental huff and frowned some more. Whatever, it wasn't his fault that she was being so self-pitying and wishy-washy. Almost immediately, he regretted thinking anything of the sort; all of this seriousness was making him grumpy.

"Anyway, I was going to apologize for taking so long to come see you. So…sorry." Alora looked up at his gruff tone, and Atton softened, seeing her confused expression. He added in a soothing voice, "I came as soon as I heard. Unfortunately, the scumbag I was chasing didn't frequent places where they listened to galactic news."

She smiled and murmured, "Well, since you just said it wasn't your fault, I guess I can forgive you." She squirmed a bit and ended the apologies quite effectively by saying, "Enough with the apologies. They're making both of us uneasy, I think. Tell me about this guy. Where did this last adventure take you? Did you get what you were after?"

"Last adventure? Sounds like someone already told you about other ones." Atton raised an eyebrow. Alora appeared to be struggling to keep a straight face, and he was getting suspicious. What had people been telling her?

"You've got quite a fan on Dantooine, you know. The way he tells it, you end up sounding like the dashing hero of some new holovid series."

"He as in who?" Although, from the look on her face, he didn't really want to know.

"He as in Mical."

"Blondie? Ugh…" He gave a dramatic shudder, but he was also wondering when the Disciple had stopped being his rival for Alora's affections and became a joke between the two of them. "I probably could have lived without knowing that. In fact, I'm going to try to forget you ever told me. So, you want to hear about my last trip?" He grinned down at her, and she nodded. "Alright then…once upon a time, there was a dashing hero—"

"Atton," she laughed, elbowing him in the ribs.

He huffed, rubbing his chest; that might actually bruise. Nevertheless, he was glad that he still knew how to push her buttons. He smirked, delighted, and continued the game, "Easy there, sister, I was just joking…"

"Just tell me the story. Pretty please?" She looked up at him with possibly the most inviting expression he had ever laid eyes on, and his breath caught in his chest. He allowed himself to enjoy the thought of leaning down and kissing her, but only for a moment. Then he deliberately pushed the urge down into the recesses of his mind, using a meditative technique that she had taught him. It wasn't the right moment yet; he didn't know if it was his instincts or the Force telling him, or perhaps his own fears…well, the moment had passed now in any case. He looked at his Juma glass, so he could focus on telling the story.

"Alright, for real this time. I guess you've heard about how I've been tracking Jedi stuff that got lost during the Civil War. I mean, you mentioned before you left that you'd like the Enclave on Dantooine rebuilt, but I…well you know how I felt about that planet."

"You got kind of restless there, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah, well I tried to help in another way, by finding…uh…artifacts, I guess, to replace the destroyed stuff. I heard rumors that someone else was doing the same thing, except he was focusing on texts and I was focusing on…well, I wasn't focusing. But anyway, I finally found out who he was. His name is Kerad Ward, and he's a rather wealthy pirate who wasn't collecting Jedi artifacts out of the good of his heart, to say the least. I hung out in a few cantinas and pazaak dens on the Outer Rim—"

"Sounds about right," she laughed.

"Hey, now, it's all perfectly legit. I was looking for information, that's all," he objected, although he didn't even try to hide his amusement.

"Right. That's _all_ you did there."

His grin widened. "Alright, so maybe I spent some time blending in, but it did get me a tip off to his location after about six weeks. I went to Endor, then, where he apparently sold guns to a merc group based there. I got lucky—he was there when I got there. Then, I got unlucky. He was apparently in the middle of his rounds, and I had to follow him from planet to planet and trade route to trade route for about a month. I was getting real frustrated by then." Atton sighed and absentmindedly started to play with her hair.

"Mmhmm," she hummed sleepily in acknowledgement. He figured he ought to wrap it up so she could go back to sleep, especially since it was his fault she was awake in the first place.

"He plotted another route toward Endor, and I thought he was starting his rounds again, without going to his base and his stash of artifacts. Turns out he has a base on a moon in uncharted system not far from there. I waited until he left again, then I snuck in and used a mind trick to make them think I was just a lowly member of the gang. I snuck into Ward's rooms, took the texts, and left before they even knew I was there. I stopped at Bespin for fuel. And that's where I heard you were back." Atton looked back at Alora to see her reaction. She was asleep. There she was, sleeping with a little smile on her face in his lap, and he was rather bemused. What now?

He noticed the dark circles under her eyes again and decided that he wasn't going to wake her. She needed the sleep. But he didn't think that they should stay here. They'd probably wake up with all kinds of aches, not to mention the potential awkwardness. So, that left moving her. He ran a finger down the side of her face, then leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. He should have kissed her earlier. He sighed, and stood up, cradling her against his chest.

He carried her to the bed he had seen earlier and laid her down on in it. She slept on with that smile still on her face. He looked longingly at the other side of the bed. He hated to leave her now that they were finally on the same planet, but he didn't want to screw up this time. He smiled wryly; that probably meant not crawling into bed with her while she was unconscious. He glanced back to the couch. It didn't mean he had to go back to the ship, though…


	3. Staccato: Strings

The door opened, and Alora stopped breathing. The hallway was most certainly not empty this time. Her brain barely acknowledged the trail-end of the door chime (he must have just hit the buzzer) before completely shutting down in shock. Instinct took over, and she rushed to embrace him, needing on some base level to confirm what she eyes told her, to feel the familiar ribbed jacket, to smell the cool tang of metal mixed with the warm scent of leather and smoke, and to taste—Her brain woke up and, luckily, remembered how to speak like a normal person.

"Atton," she breathed his name, still unable to completely contain the joy and relief she felt. "It's really you. You came back." This wasn't a dream, and he didn't hate her. She stepped back to get a good look at the man she had been missing so desperately. He looked almost exactly the same as he had when she first saw him in that force cage on Peragus—rough in all the right places, with the same expressive eyes. It was his manner that had changed. Granted, he had mellowed during their time on the Ebon Hawk together, but the Atton standing before her now was…well, she wasn't sure how to describe it. There was less arrogance, for sure, and the anger that was missing from his emotional barrier was missing in him, too.

"Hey there," he said as his mouth curved into her favorite crooked grin, the one that always promised trouble. "Miss me?"

She chuckled—what an absurd question. "No, not at all," she drawled, falling easily into their sarcastic banter, "I always answer my door like this." She met his eyes and found herself feeling…well, floaty. She had only felt this way a few times during particularly deep meditation. This was…nice—really nice—and it was all because of his mesmerizing eyes. However, she had to jerk herself out of her trance when she realized that her gaze was drifting towards his mouth. She was not in control enough to resist kissing him quite yet—mustn't tempt herself. But she _was_ so glad that he was here, and it wouldn't be inappropriate to give an old friend another hug, would it? So, she cut that part of herself a little slack and leaned in to squeeze him again before grabbing both his hands and pulling him into the apartment.

"Come in! Come in!" Alora continued to lead him until they had reached the middle of the room. At that point, she realized she had no idea what to do next. Shit, shit, shit, what _do_ you do when the guy you're in love with, who might not love you back, shows up in the middle of the night a year and a half after you last saw him? Panicking, she scanned the room, hoping something would spark an idea. They really should write a guide about long-lost-love etiquette or something because she was pretty sure that what happens in the holovids—dragging him to bed before the screen blacks out—wouldn't fly here.

"Alora…you okay?" he hesitantly asked from behind her. She almost winced—she must look totally insane.

"Hmm?" Stalling—breathe in—stalling—breathe out, and then her eyes landed on her mug in the kitchen. She whipped around to face him with a polite smile on her face. "Oh, I was just thinking I needed a cup of caffa. You want something?" Take _that_, etiquette junkies!

"Well, I suppose that depends on if you're offering me a _drink_ or something to drink?" he drawled back in that lazy manner she had come to associate with him. She laughed lightly at that special smirk she knew revealed that he was playing his favorite "gambling alcoholic fool" card—the one he hid behind during their whole adventure on the _Ebon Hawk_. She saw through that one quite early on, though she would never give him away if he wanted to be underestimated.

"A Juma Juice it is." Alora knew that she had some still. She'd experimented with some alcohol when she got back, and Atton's favorite had been the first one she'd tried. Her thoughts turning back to Atton, and whether to grab the bottle or a glass (or both), she realized that he was following her. Now, this just wouldn't do…she was trying to follow etiquette here.

She turned back to him. "Nuh uh. I'm the hostess here." She authoritatively pointed to the couch and added, "You sit." His eyebrows and hands came up as he backed up. She blinked; perhaps she had overdone that a bit. Oh, he was smirking again. Reassured, she continued into the kitchen.

The suite wasn't that big, but the kitchen nook was deep enough that it broke the line of sight between them. Alora sighed with relief; knowing he couldn't see her now, she collapsed into the counter, catching herself on the edge. Holy shit. She needed to get herself under control before she did something awful, so she started a Jedi breathing exercise. Still focusing on the patterned breathing, she refilled her caffa mug and retrieved the Juma Juice from the cooler. After she had poured a glass for Atton, she turned her attention to her own mug and whether or not it needed some alcohol in it, too. She did have a bottle of whiskey, which was quite nice with caffa, as well; however, the question was if it would help. Her tolerance was particularly low, so it wouldn't take much to affect her. Even this much alcohol would help her relax physically while she mentally reined her emotions in, she argued to herself. But was it worth the risk of lowered inhibitions—in this situation especially? She heard a soft shift of the couch and flinched as if it were a gunshot, thereby answering herself. It was worth it, absolutely.

Adding a fair bit of whiskey to her drink, and double-checking her newly regained emotional control, she mentally braced herself and headed back to her guest. She stifled a laugh, however, when she saw her guest bending into a rather awkward position apparently in an effort to read her messages while still remaining on the couch. She put on a mock-upset face as she quipped, "Curiosity killed the tach, you know."

He jerked back to a sitting position, looking shocked. "Ah, nice place?" He blinked up at her and smiled hesitantly, looking like he was stealing from a cookie jar but didn't know if he had gotten caught—it was adorable.

She handed him his drink and slipped in a quick "Thanks." It's not like the place is really hers, but he got points for effort. Alora suddenly realized that she didn't know where to sit down. On one hand, she wanted to sit next to him. On the other hand, though, she'd think better in the armchair—no need to invade his personal space or anything. So she went to chair, despite her instincts calling out to the contrary. She took a large gulp of her caffa cocktail.

They sat in silence for a while, and she watched him surreptitiously. From out of the corner of her eyes and from under her lashes, she watched his face. With her own emotions under control, she felt like she could make a decent guess at what he was feeling. However, she apparently hadn't factored in his own Jedi training. If she were forced to make a guess, Alora would have said that he started out with an apprehensive, perhaps uncomfortable, look on his face, which rapidly shifted into something better than contentment but less than happiness. The silence continued to stretch. She wasn't sure what to say to him, but the alcohol was making her noticeably more relaxed. Well, something needed to be said and soon…

"Look, I'm sorry—" Why would he be sorry? She's the one that abandoned him.

"What for?" Oops, they were saying the same thing again. Alora waited until she was sure that he was letting her speak. "Let me go first," she said, more as a segue now than an actual request. A vague feeling that sitting next to him might seem more sincere drifted into Alora's head. And, after all of the fear that he wasn't coming back, she really needed him to believe her. So, she very purposely set down her almost empty mug and moved deliberately over to the couch.

"I…," Her voice broke. Oh dear, this was going to be more difficult than she thought. Usually, she tried to avoid thinking about the night she decided to leave without her crew—it wasn't an easy decision. She had gotten so used to them that leaving them had been like losing a limb, and leaving Atton had been like losing her heart. Er, where did that come from? She wasn't usually this poetic. She looked away from him to gather her thoughts; she doubted he'd appreciate her slightly drunken metaphors. She took a deep breath, and started.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way I left and for not taking you—err, any of you—with me. I missed you desperately." She sped up in a rush to explain her reasoning. "I still think that it was the right decision to go alone, especially now that I know what was out there, but you deserved more than me sneaking off without saying goodbye. I figured that you would be pretty upset with me. I was actually starting to think that I had ruined our…" What the hell should she call the convoluted relationship that they had? She pursed her lips, "…friendship, because..." Ah, how should she explain the last four months? "Well, you hadn't…nevermind." She sighed. She must be making such a fool of herself, and she was starting to tear up. In hindsight, the whiskey was _not_ a good idea.

"Come here." She looked up and was surprised to find his arms open in invitation. She blinked. He looked genuinely concerned, and she felt the tiniest smile fight its way past her tearing eyes. Maybe it was the drink talking, but she decided that she ought to just stop thinking about it—whatever _it_ was. She slid into his lap and leaned into the comfort he offered. She was still upset; the last year was hell, and there were psychological scars that she wasn't sure would ever heal. But for the moment, she felt safe. His hand was ghosting through her hair, and his arm was locked around waist.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "I was upset for a few days after you left, but then Mira found me and made me 'quit sulking,' apparently on your orders." She felt him nudge her and half-heartedly smiled for him, while she contemplated his confirmation of one of her fears. He _had_ been upset then, but only for a few days? Honestly, that was better than she had been expecting. "Thanks for setting the kath hound on me, by the way." Her mouth twitched. That was one of the reasons she had asked Mira to carry out this mission. Mira was relentless, but mostly she had asked the bounty hunter because she knew Mira wouldn't fight her decision. Her mouth fell into a frown again at that depressing thought, and she looked at the floor. Atton was talking again.

"I had always understood your reasoning, even though I didn't like it, and it didn't take me very long to forgive you for it. You have nothing to be sorry for. You understand?" How could he forgive her? She still hadn't fully forgiven herself for leaving, but did that even matter? She wasn't sure at this moment; her eyes were starting to drop despite the caffa. She was deadly tired, though, to be fair, that was her normal state these days.

"Anyway, I was going to apologize for taking so long to come see you. So, sorry." His rough tone broke her out of her daze. She looked at his eyes to try to figure out what had triggered this. He was angry, or annoyed perhaps? She was feeling confused enough to risk brushing his mind for his emotions, when his expression inexplicably softened. He continued in a more normal voice, "I came as soon as I heard. Unfortunately, the scumbag I was chasing didn't frequent places where they listened to galactic news."

She couldn't fight her smile now even if she had wanted to. So, he hadn't been avoiding her; he truly hadn't known. For once, the best-case scenario actually won out. "Well, since you just said it wasn't your fault, I guess I can forgive you," she responded softly when she realized he would need a reply. Her emotions were getting unruly again. They had forgiven each other, so why did she suddenly feel like sobbing? She had a pretty good idea why the desire to kiss him swept through her—but, really now, more tears? Alora wondered, not for the first time, how much her mood swings and trouble sleeping stemmed from legitimate psychic trauma and how much was just her being messed up. She shifted, and realized that the apprehensive cast to his face was back. She should have remembered that he was no more used to emotional sincerity than she was. "Enough with the apologies. They're making both of us uneasy, I think." Luckily, a new topic came easily to her mind. "Tell me about this guy. Where did this last adventure take you? Did you get what you were after?"

She watched Atton raise an eyebrow. "Last adventure? Sounds like someone already told you about other ones."

The image of Mical gushing over the fantastic artifacts Atton had acquired immediately came to mind. Her lips twitched; she remembered their rivalry pretty vividly and was pleasantly amused at the time that they seemed to have gotten over it. "You've got quite a fan on Dantooine, you know. The way he tells it, you end up sounding like the dashing hero of some new holovid series." That was a little bit of exaggeration, but it'd be worth it to see his reaction.

"He as in who?" he asked slowly and warily.

She waited a beat for maximum effect. "He as in Mical."

"Blondie?" As she suspected, Atton reacted dramatically. Shuddering, he said, "I probably could have lived without knowing that. In fact, I'm going to try to forget you ever told me." She smiled into his chest; she hadn't joked so much in ages. She looked up to see him slyly smirking as he continued, "So, you want to hear about my last trip? Alright then, once upon a time, there was a dashing hero—"

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Atton," she chastised lightheartedly, elbowing him lightly for emphasis.

"Easy there, sister, I was just joking…"

"Just tell me the story. Pretty please?" She smiled back at him, feeling like a small child asking for a bedtime story. She was getting really sleepy, but she was reluctant to bring any sort of end to this reunion. Alora realized that, not only had she lost her sense of humor in these last four months, she hadn't been this happy since she left to find Chala. It was becoming exceptionally clear that Atton had brought a huge chunk of her life back with him. And so, she kept on smiling at him.

He looked away first. "Alright, for real this time. I guess you've heard about how I've been tracking Jedi stuff that got lost during the Civil War. I mean, you mentioned before you left that you'd like the Enclave on Dantooine rebuilt, but I…well you know how I felt about that planet."

Her smile was traded for a more serious expression that befitted that mildly troubling memory. She recalled the waves of frustration rolling off of him as they met the Disciple, got yelled at by Vrook, and defended the ungrateful Khoonda residents from the mercenaries. Their brief second visit also popped into her mind. She specifically recalled the way he shook as he held her and told her Kreia was gone. She had thought she felt him kiss her hair, but there was no time to consider it then. She had ended up dismissing that sensation when he carried on being just as caustic as before. "You got kind of restless there, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah, well I tried to help in another way, by finding…uh…artifacts, I guess. I heard rumors that someone else was doing the same thing, except he was focusing on texts and I was focusing on…well, I wasn't focusing. But anyway, I finally found out who he was. His name is Kerad Ward, and he's a rather wealthy pirate who wasn't collecting Jedi artifacts out of the good of his heart. I hung out in cantinas and pazaak dens on the Outer Rim—"

"Sounds about right," Alora's eyes lit up; that was just like her Atton. She chuckled and snuggled in closer.

"Hey, now, it's all perfectly legit. I was looking for information, that's all." He jokingly defended himself. At least, he had better have been joking because that was obviously a rationalizing excuse.

"Right. That's _all_ you did," she threw back half-heartedly.

"Alright, so maybe I spent some time blending in, but it did get me a tip off to his location after about six weeks. I went to Endor, then, where he apparently sold guns to a merc group there. I got lucky—he was there when I got there…" It occurred to her that Atton had such a nice voice, and his narrative was making it soothingly rhythmic. She heard a pause and acknowledged it with a brief hum. He was very comfortable, too. She gave up trying to keep her eyes open and drifted off in his arms.

* * *

_A/N: I would like to apologize sincerely for being such a slow writer. With that said, I only had 4 reviews to motivate me...(hint hint)_

_Until next time, Happy Writing (and reading)!_


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